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AH-LINS OF PEKING 

A ROMANCE OF OLD CHINA 






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NEW YORK 

GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY 


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Copyright, 1928, 

By George H. Doran Company 



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Ah-Ling of Peking. I 


Printed in the United States of America 



SEP 17 *23 

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PART ONE 





“And I have ta'en the lute , my only friend: 

The vibrant chords beneath my fingers blend; 
They sob awhile, then as they slip control 
Immortal memories awake , and the dear years 
Through deathless voices answer to my strings , 
Till from the brink of Time's untarnished springs 
The melting night recalls me with her tears." 


PART ONE 


T HE last rays of sun flickered across 
Peking, casting shadows on the 
great walls of the Forbidden City, 
while the golden-yellow tiled roofs of the 
palace sparkled beneath the waning light. 

Only the distant twang of a lute broke the 
silence in the marble courtyard. The 
weirdly plaintive music ceased and a young 
Chinese girl stood within the doorway. The 
lute slipped from her fingers as she fell upon 
her knees with hands outstretched in suppli¬ 
cation and head bowed before an ancestral 
shrine. 

She remained motionless as the minutes 
passed. Gradually the dark head lifted and 
troubled eyes gazed up above the memorial. 
From her heart came a fervent whispered 
prayer—“Oh, God, whom I have learned to 
love through foreign teaching, I beg thee— 

[ 9 ] 



Ali-Ling of Peking 

I beseech thee, protect the honorable for¬ 
eigners from the evil Boxers! Almighty 
Father, show me a way to help them. I give 
my life if need be.” 

Her eyes lowered and rested upon the 
ancestral shrine, the pleading tones con¬ 
tinued—“Oh, honorable ancestors through 
the ages, who have protected thy children, I 
beg thee open the hearts and eyes of this 
generation to the horrible wrong they are 
about to commit upon the foreign brothers 
here in the city of our ancestors. Restrain 
the mighty and powerful hand of the 
Empress Dowager from signing the order 
of the massacre, for oh! most noble and 
illustrious ancestors, the shame will never 
fade which will be cast upon our beloved and 
honorable Dragon Kingdom if Old Buddha, 
the Grand Council and Jung Lu, my august 
father, decree this act.” 

Ah-Ling appeared to have gained strength 
through her heart-wrung prayers and arose. 

Could it be possible that the hand of 
Death and Destruction lay waiting outside 

[ 10 ] 


Ah-Ling of Peking 

these walls? Peace and beauty of the ages 
lay enclosed here. Delicate incense filled 
the air, burning from bronze braziers; lotus 
buds in great blue bowls seemed to pour 
forth all their strength, vying in fragrance 
with the incense. Soft candlelight from 
ancient jade lanterns brought forth the 
superb coloring in velvet and gold brocade, 
illuminating lacquer and delicate carving on 
screens and walls. 

An old man gently parted the draperies 
and entered the chamber. A tender, anxious 
expression came to the wrinkled face as he 
gazed in silent contemplation at the girl and 
finally spoke to her— 

“Ah-Ling, I heard thee play on thy lute 
such longing tones, surely thy honorable an¬ 
cestors have heard thee, whate’er thy 
prayers may be. But perchance thy old 
tutor can help. Come tell me, child, what 
ails thee, for my heart grieves to see trouble 
written on thy dear face.” 

Ah-Ling had not been aware of the pres¬ 
ence of the old man, and turned with out- 

[ii] 


Ah-Ling of Peking 

stretched hands to grasp those of her beloved 
teacher. 

“Oh, Cheng-Su, indeed trouble and sor¬ 
row have come, fleet on the wings of the ill- 
omened bat, and I am in despair! My au¬ 
gust father was reading to me ancient poetry 
and a slave came bidding him to a conference 
with Her Majesty. My honorable father 
bade me ponder on the verses until his re¬ 
turn, and when he returned, Cheng-Su, my 
honorable father was as white as the scroll 
in his hand. 

“ ‘My daughter,’ said he, ‘Thou knowest, 
the trouble that has been going on with the 
foreigners here in Peking. I have always 
disliked these foreign White Devils, yet 
have urged that no harm come to them, for 
dishonor would descend upon the Empire; 
but now the situation has developed to such 
a state that a decree has been signed that all 
foreigners within the Celestial City shall be 
wiped out to-morrow at the hour of the cock. 
I am thankful that I have never allowed thee 
to know the foreigners. At my age the idea 

[ 12 ] 


Ah-Ling of Peking 

of bloodshed, and being one to command it, 
makes me shudder and tremble—but, my 
Lotus Flower, read to me, and let us forget 
all but the wise and beauteous counsel of 
the sages.’ 

“Thou alone, Cheng-Su, who have been 
my tutor and friend from babyhood, can 
realize how my heart stopped at these words. 
Thou knowest how austere is my honorable 
father and I knew I must find my voice and 
plead that he use his influence to suppress 
this horrible deed. I pretended the rice 
paper leaves had stuck together in order 
that I might have time to gain composure. 

“ ‘Did my Noble Father believe that the 
Gods of China wished this frightful 
massacre, and if it was against their wishes, 
was it not true that the shame would never 
fade from our Imperial Kingdom?’ 

“My father waxed wrath at these words, 
for indeed my humble opinion had not been 
asked, but my heart could not remain silent. 

“Oh, Cheng-Su, it is many, many moons 
since first thou tookest me secretly to see 

[ 13 ] 


Ah-Ling of Peking 

thy sister in the British Legation, and Diana 
Maynard and I first played together. We 
have grown to maidenhood, our friendship 
growing in deeper affection and love. It 
is for us, Cheng-Su, the only two people in 
this palace who sympathize with the for¬ 
eigners, to help them. 

“Surely, surely thou wilt think t)f a way. 
My poor head is awhirl like the water-wheel! 
Think! Think what must be done, for 
there remain only a few hours in which 
Kwanlin, thy Goddess of Mercy, can help 
thee or the Bridge of Death will have been 
crossed.” 

The old man remained silent, shaking 
his head. “Ah-Ling,” he said gravely, 
“thou knowest well how we are kept pris¬ 
oners here in the Forbidden City, and 
only by great secrecy and ‘bribery in the 
early morning, when a few went once a 
moon to visit Ta Hsi Tien, the temple of 
the Great Western Heaven, could we steal 
a visit to my sister in the foreign quarter, 
and thou couldst see the British Minister’s 

[ 14 ] 


Ah-Ling of Peking 

young daughter. Thy words bring fear and 
sorrow to me, for we are helpless as babes 
to offer protection or give warning. Thou 
knowest well how the gates of the Forbidden 
City are guarded. No one may enter or 
leave the sacred walls without Royal per¬ 
mission, which is all difficult to obtain, and 
without authority—there is the death 
penalty. The hour is late; while we have 
talked, the celestial sun has gone to rest 
behind the veil of darkness.” 

A muffled beating of drums and a strange 
chanting came from the courtyard. An old, 
bent man, evidently blind, for he grasped a 
stick with which he was feeling his way, and 
a young boy were crossing the courtyard. 
The boy was cloaked in a long scarlet coat 
and a little round cap of the same brilliant 
color, and chanted while beating on a drum, 
with low, monotonous taps. 

Ah-Ling put her hand to her head. Was 
it not sufficiently difficult to think at this 
critical time without distraction? It was 
old Kin-Wu, the soothsayer, and his grand- 

[ 15 ] 


Ali-Ling of Peking 

son who, clothed in red, beat on a drum to 
frighten away the evil spirits. It was Kin- 
Wu’s semi-annual visit to the Imperial City. 
Renowned through China as an astrologer, 
he had been commanded to the city to fore¬ 
tell the future to members of the court. 
Kin-Wu and the boy, Yi-Na, were about to 
enter one of the doors across the courtyard 
when Ah-Ling cried out, “Haste, haste, 
Cheng-Su. Tell Kin-Wu I must have 
words with him. A sudden whim tells me 
by chance through him, we may find a way. 
True, he also hates the foreigners and would 
betray our secret to aid them, but go bid him 
come to me.” 

Cheng-Su stopped the old man, and in a 
few words told him a noble lady of the court 
wished him at her side immediately. Mean¬ 
while Ah-Ling’s mind was working rapidly, 
grasping at any possible way which might 
afford help. 

Kin-Wu and Yi-Na approached slowly 
across the courtyard, and when they 

[ 16 ] 


came 


Ah-Ling of Peking 

to the door, Ah-Ling spoke in a voice soft 
and clear as the temple bell. 

“Kin-Wu, master of the Great Unknown, 
a Manchu maid stands before thee in dire 
distress. She implores thee to come to her 
before leaving the palace to-night, and read 
the message the stars must hold for her.” 

Kin-Wu bowed his shaggy head and 
tapped on the ground with the stick. Once 
more the drumming and chanting held forth 
as the strange pair continued on their way. 

Old Cheng-Su closed the heavily carved 
doors and looked at Ah-Ling inquiringly. 
She placed her hand in his and with sup¬ 
pressed excitement began to unfold the plan 
which had come. 

“Cheng-Su,” she explained in low tones, 
close to the old man’s ear, “ I shall write a 
warning message and whilst thou keepest 
Kin-Wu in conversation, I shall seek to bribe 
the boy Yi-Na to take it to the Legation. 
Truly it is the God of Good-fortune who has 
sent Kin-Wu here to-night.” Relief was in 
the young voice, as she paused for breath. 

[ 17 ] 


Ah-Ling of Peking 

Cheng-Su opened his lips as though to arrest 
her words. What mortal danger lay in wait, 
if treachery influence the boy? But Ah-Ling 
continued—“Surely the spirit of my illus¬ 
trious ancestors will not fail me and will 
guide me on this hazardous path. Remain 
thou here Cheng-Su, while I write the mes¬ 
sage. Fear not, and trust thy Ah-Ling.” 

Sliding back a panel, she clapped her 
hands. A small slave soon appeared, bear¬ 
ing fragrant sun-dried tea, opium and water 
pipes. Thoughts raced through the out¬ 
wardly calm little body as Ah-Ling sat at 
the carved sandalwood writing table in her 
room, a few moments later. 

The foreigners must be outside the Tartar 
City gates, the last wall guarding Peking, 
for only at that distance from the city would 
they escape the fiendish Boxers, doubtless 
concentrating on the city in their murderous 
pursuit. 

Dared she trust the message of life or 
death to an unknown boy? The risk was too 
great, for the message might not ever reach 

[ 18 ] 


Ali-Ling of Peking 

its destination. The thought chilled her 
with terror and ever stronger came the 
realization that, no matter where the danger 
lay, she herself must go. In this hour of 
trial had she the courage to face unknown 
peril, perhaps death, which might come out¬ 
side the Forbidden City walls or through 
punishment here within? From infancy 
courage had been the first word and maxim 
taught in the Book of Wisdom—infallible 
to the proud Manchu—and was she not a 
Manchu? 

Love and sacrifice were the great Chris¬ 
tian God’s commands and was she not now, 
above all else, a Christian? Strength and 
determination entered the courageous spirit; 
the brush ready to inscribe the message was 
tossed aside. With head bowed in hands she 
remained, thinking, planning, fortifying 
herself for the task ahead. But time was 
passing rapidly by, and it was essential to 
make ready with all haste. 

Before a beautiful lacquer dressing-case 
Ah-Ling removed the pearl and jade orna- 

[ 19 ] 


Ah-Ling of Peking 

merits from the shining black hair, which she 
then braided down her back. Magnificent 
jeweled rings covered the frail little hands, 
and these, with the gold wrought nail pro¬ 
tectors, were hastily laid aside. The charm¬ 
ing blue and gold brocade jacket and jade 
green trousers, also the tiny embroidered 
padded slippers, were quickly exchanged 
for those of simpler and darker coloring. 

The heavy paint and powder of the court 
were rubbed off, revealing the clear, creamy 
skin and exquisite faint line of eyebrow 
above the unfathomable brown eyes. 

Little Ah-Ling was irresistible in her deli¬ 
cate patrician charm and beauty, trans¬ 
formed from a Manchu to a native maid. 

The beating of the drum and chanting 
came from the courtyard. Ah-Ling hastened 
back again to Cheng-Su, peacefully smoking 
the pipe of dreams, while the soothsayer and 
boy awaited at the threshold. 

Great drops of rain fell faster and faster, 
as the wind howled in fitful gales around the 
courtyard. The heavens assured a severe 

[ 20 ] 


Ah-Ling of Peking 

storm, and angry clouds covered moon and 
stars in the blanket of darkness. 

Kin-Wu announced with regret that he 
must depart at once, before the storm made 
it impossible to find the way home. 

With fast-beating heart Ah-Ling came 
close to Cheng-Su and whispered—“Fear 
not. Thy Ah-Ling will soon return. Do 
not try to follow me, for it will endanger 
my life.” 

The old man, drowsy with opium-smok¬ 
ing, and in the dim light, had not noticed 
the changed attire, and only now came the 
realization of what Ah-Ling planned to do. 
Before he could protest or hold her, the 
small dark figure was lost outside in the 
night. His befuddled brain told him he 
must pursue her, but how could he—lame 
and feeble? Ah-Ling’s words rang in his 
ears—“Do not try to follow me, for it will 
endanger my life.” While dread fear held 
him in its clutches, it appeared an impossi¬ 
bility to wait—a dumb beholder of disaster. 


[ 21 ] 



PART TWO 






“Clouds burst , shies -flash , oft, dreadful hour! 

More fiercely pours the storm! 

Yet here one thought has still the power 
To keep my bosom warm 


PART TWO 


T HE storm had reached its height. 
The heavens opened and scarcely 
could one see a pace ahead. Keep¬ 
ing well in back of Kin-Wu and Yi-Na’s 
lantern, it was an eternity to Ah-Ling be¬ 
fore a gleam of lamplight, faint as a pale 
star, shone through the wind and rain, dimly 
outlining the great Forbidden City Wall 
Gate. What chance of fortune would help 
now? So much depended on getting 
through this first gate, which was more 
guarded than the second of the Imperial 
City. 

As they approached the watch-house 
Yi-Na tried to beat on his drum, but the 
storm was fighting hard, and human 
strength was futile in combating the rage 
of the God of Tempests. The boy’s shouts 

[ 25 ] 


Ah-Ling of Peking 

were heard at last, and guttural tones de¬ 
manded who would go out on such a night. 
Holding the lantern above his head, Yi-Na’s 
red coat and hat, streaming with rain, served 
him well, for he was recognized by the guard 
and the lofty gates swung open without 
further delay. 

Ah-Ling, breathless in anxiety and ex¬ 
citement, pressed close to the man and boy, 
and passed through as the clang of the iron 
bars sounded at their back. Filled with in¬ 
tense relief and joy she hastily dropped back 
again out of the lantern’s shadow. With 
lowered head she fought against the pelting 
rain and stinging wind, lifting her straining 
eyes now and then to search the distance for 
the light of the watch-house. But not a 
ray of light broke the inky blackness. At 
first she quieted her perplexed anxiety with 
the thought and belief that the light must be 
there but unable to penetrate the dense, 
stormy night. However, as the walls of the 
Forbidden City were left farther and 
farther behind, the disquieting feeling would 

[ 26 ] 


Ah-Ling of Peking 

not be stilled that all was not well at the 
City Gates. 

Twice the old soothsayer had to stop, ex¬ 
hausted, but there was no rest standing still 
with the torrent of rain lashing their faces, 
and the boy Yi-Na would urge that they 
continue, supporting the old man as best he 
could with one arm, while clutching the 
lantern in the other hand. In a particularly 
strong and fierce gust of wind, the flickering 
light of the lantern all but went out, causing 
added apprehension to Ah-Ling and Yi-Na, 
for such a mishap would leave them groping 
helplessly in the dark. It was in the hands 
of Providence whether Kin-Wu would be 
able to bear up against the storm, for if he 
collapsed, Yi-Na would never have the 
needed strength to carry him; and what 
would happen then? Ah-Ling dared not 
think. 

Above the whistling gale, every now and 
then the querulous, irritable voice of the 
soothsayer would rise, asking in anxious 
tones how near they were to the gate. 

[ 27 ] 


Ah-Ling of Peking 

Yi-Na would try to appease him with en¬ 
couraging monosyllables, which grew more 
and more doubtful, as he also anxiously won¬ 
dered what had happened that no rays of 
light emitted from the distance where the 
watch-house must be located. 

At last the endless way came to an end. 
Only Yi-Na’s lantern outlined the dark 
sentry tower with not a sign of life about. 
It was a desperate thought that flashed 
through Ah-Ling that their departure was 
to be blocked here, behind gates barred from 
the outside world, with no alternative but 
to wait for the morning and all the fearful 
accompaniments. It could not be, fate 
would not be so cruel. 

Yi-Na took Kin-Wu’s stick and with re¬ 
sounding blows struck at the door of the 
gate house. Not a sound issued from within. 
From the deep shadows Ah-Ling watched. 
At length she stole over to the gates and 
with raised arms groped for the bolt—the 
great iron bar was not across the gate. With 
hopeful excitement she wondered if this 

[ 28 ] 


Ah-Ling of Peking 

signified that the gate was open. She would 
try to pull the door back. Just then Yi-Na 
came from around the corner of the house, 
having ceased in his efforts to find the guard. 
Ah-Ling hastily drew back out of the 
lantern’s rays, and with fast-beating heart 
she awaited their fate, which would be 
known in a moment’s time. 

Yi-Na placed the lantern in Kin-Wu’s 
hand, warning him to keep it steady. A 
moment of anxious waiting, then in agitated 
tones Yi-Na called to Kin-Wu to raise the 
lantern higher. Ah-Ling then saw dis¬ 
tinctly that the great iron bolt was drawn 
back and not across the gate. Now it only 
remained to pull open the heavy doors and 
squeeze through. Ah-Ling felt she must 
shout—the relief was so intense. But what 
had happened to leave the gate unguarded? 
The only solution could be that the lanterns 
had failed and the watch had gone to renew 
them. Yi-Na taxed all his strength to pull 
the gate open a little way, and as he turned 

[ 29 ] 


Ah-Ling of Peking 

to take the lantern from Kin-Wu, Ah-Ling 
noiselessly slipped through. 

She pressed against the wall, remaining 
motionless, and saw Kin-Wu and Yi-Na 
vanish in the distance. The excitement of 
the safe escape, battling the storm and 
shivering with wet and cold, left her near 
exhaustion. 

Fortunately the wind had shifted, while 
the rain changed into a misty drizzle. How 
terrifying it was alone in the desolate black 
city. What hidden peril lay in the vast dark¬ 
ness broken by a scattering of shadowy 
lights? 

On and on, her tiny feet aching painfully 
from the unaccustomed exercise. Many 
hours must have passed since she left 
Cheng-Su and the warm, dry palace. When 
would the Legation buildings loom through 
the haze to give hope? At times in the 
night’s darkness, it was as though she must 
open her eyes to find it all a hideous dream. 

Hands and feet were numb with cold. It 
could not be far now. Always before, when 

[ 30 ] 


Ah-Ling of Peking 

in chair or rickshaw, it had seemed such a 
short distance from the Forbidden City to 
the foreign quarter. Was it possible to have 
mistaken the direction? With great con¬ 
sternation she stopped and peered to right 
and left. Through the silence came the 
deep, serene chimes of a clock, as though a 
Heaven-sent message to soothe the soul. 
Joy and relief leapt in her heart, for only 
the British Legation chapel had a clock like 
this in all Peking. It sounded very near, 
and as though a curtain had lifted, a great 
iron gate appeared out of the mist. A for¬ 
eign soldier was on guard, pacing inside the 
grounds. 

Ah-Ling came close to the gate, calling, 
“Hi-Ya, Hi-Ya—please let me in. I must 
speak to Miss Maynard at once.” The 
guard halted and looked through the gate 
with astonishment, to see a bedraggled little 
Chinese maid at midnight demanding, in 
perfect English, to speak with Miss May¬ 
nard. However, the voice was so urgent, he 
partly opened the gate, while Ah-Ling con- 

[ 31 ] 


Ah-Ling of Peking 

tinned—“You must see it is all-important 
that I should see Miss Maynard. I am her 
friend, please take me to her at once, or I 
must go alone.” 

Before the guard had time to close the 
gate, after letting Ah-Ling in, she was 
hastening ahead. He quickly latched the 
entrance and followed. Entering one of 
the low houses, she knew the way to the bed¬ 
room and gently opened the door. Going 
directly to the bedside she knelt and took 
Diana Maynard’s hand, while the girl 
opened startled eyes. Was this an appari¬ 
tion or really little Ah-Ling who gazed so 
earnestly at her and now spoke? 

“Have no fear Diana, my beloved, it is 
thy Ah-Ling. 

“I have heard from my august father that 
by Her Majesty Tzu Hsi’s command, this 
day, at the hour of the cock, all foreigners 
here in Peking are to be massacred. All the 
Legation must flee at once and be outside 
the native city walls by that hour.” 

Diana was wide awake now and threw a 

[ 32 ] 


• Ah-Ling of Peking 

cover hastily about the shivering little form 
at her side. This rumor then, was not false, 
which had passed from mouth to mouth 
within the last days, that the Imperial Court 
was planning some fearful revenge upon the 
foreigners. For now in all reality came the 
gruesome truth and there was no time to be 
lost. 

Without a word Diana leapt from bed 
and slipped into robe and slippers. “Come, 
Ah-Ling,” she said, “we will go to my 
father. He will know what is to be done.” 

In an astoundingly short time all the 
Legation had been called. They were dress¬ 
ing hurriedly and gathering together their 
most valued possessions. 

The first faint light of a new day broke 
through the night while the frightened and 
excited people got under way in chairs and 
rickshaws, after many threats and entreaties 
to sleepy and bewildered coolies. 

The Legation Staff were to remain at 
their post, but many others, although urged 
by the Minister and secretaries, also refused 

[ 33 ] 


Ali-Ling of Peking 

to leave the Legation, believing it an im¬ 
possibility that they would not be officially 
warned. The Minister insisted upon his 
wife and daughter going to the summer 
house outside of Peking in the hills. With 
them went the wives and children of the sec¬ 
retaries. 

The earnest entreaties and beseechings of 
all were in vain. Ah-Ling would not go 
with them, and remained firm in her resolu¬ 
tion to return alone to the Forbidden City. 
“If I am missed,” she said, “they will send 
searchers for me, and if I am found with the 
foreigners, the Boxers, in their revenge and 
wrath, will massacre us all. There is no time 
to tell how I escaped from the Forbidden 
City; but I believe the Great God and the 
spirit of my ancestors will lead me safely 
back.” 

The two girls were in each other’s arms; 
tears streaming down their faces—the im¬ 
mobility of the Chinese gone from Ah- 
Ling’s face, as it expressed deep anguish. 

“Diana, dear one,” she said at last, “do 

[ 34 ] 



Ah-Ling of Peking 

not thank me, it is little that I have done. I 
love thee as the flowers love the sun, and, 
more than friendship and love, thou hast 
given me the light of life. Surely when 
great love is put in our hearts for a purpose, 
and we use it not, ever after life would be a 
gray day. We have been in each other’s 
lives for some true purpose. It cannot be 
that we are to be parted forever: our paths 
in life will meet again.” 

At the gate Ah-Ling watched Diana and 
the others disappear in the distance, and a 
cruel pang of loneliness tugged at her heart 
as she started for the Forbidden City. 

Until now there had been little thought 
how the return to the Forbidden City was to 
be made. Each step in the great adventure 
had been taken with a feeling of deep grati¬ 
tude at its safe accomplishment. To reach 
Diana had been the great aim. Now, with 
cold fear and despair creeping around her 
heart, she stumbled on. 

Life in the Imperial City had been one 
of lonely, silent dreams for Ah-Ling. 

[ 35 ] 


Ah-Ling of Peking 

Dreams which could not be breathed to a 
soul for fear of discovery. The visits to 
Diana were the inspiring joy in her other¬ 
wise monotonous days, filled with the duties 
of a Manchu court lady. 

It was necessary for women to suppress 
all thoughts which were not in strict accord¬ 
ance with the philosophers. Knowledge and 
education were not for them, only strict 
seclusion within court and home, where chil¬ 
dren and grandchildren dwelt under the 
same roof tree. Duty lay in the complete 
subservience to father and husband, while 
honor came only with the accomplishment 
of their true mission in life—bringing sons 
into the world who, in turn, paid devotion 
to the mother. 

Jung Lu was wise and just in his power 
over the Empire, though stern and unrelent¬ 
ing in his judgment. The one tender place 
in his heart was devoted to Ah-Ling. She, 
in turn, had a true filial affection for her 
father, without understanding often his 
ruthless actions. 


[ 36 ] 


Ah-Ling of Peking 

Ah-Ling ever tended the hope that a time 
would come when it would be possible to tell 
him the happiness which Diana had brought 
into her life. Now all this cherished dream 
had been torn away. 

Weary and troubled, she prayed that the 
strength which was well-nigh spent would 
not fail entirely in this final hour. 

Could she but reach the jacred wall, she 
would wait for some unforeseen way of en¬ 
tering, trusting to be taken for a beggar 
maid and to be left unmolested. 

Now all at once it became strangely dark 
to Ah-Ling, and heaven and earth seemed 
fused in one. Involuntarily her outstretched 
arms groped for the light her clouded senses 
believed there, but oblivion wrapped her in 
its folds and carried her to the ground in a 
swoon. 


[ 37 ] 






PART THREE 




“ ’Tis all a cliequer-board of nights and days 
Where destiny with men for pieces plays: 
Hither and thither moves , and mates , and slays t 
And one by one bach in the closet lays.” 


PART THREE 


T HE palace, to all appearances, was 
enshrouded in dark serenity as the 
hours sped by, but within the soul of 
Jung Lu and old Cheng-Su there was pro¬ 
found agitation from different sources. 

The old tutor had remained in the Ances¬ 
tral Chamber, becoming more and more 
alarmed as the night slipped away and his 
thoughts became more fearful of the conse¬ 
quences the new day would bring. 

Jung Lu found his conscience stirring 
discomforting doubts, which under Old 
Buddha’s domineering power had been sup¬ 
pressed. Deprived of sleep and rest he 
wandered to the Ancestral Chamber for 
meditation. 

The dejection of Cheng-Su seemed to 
unite with the gloom of the room, for the 
light of the lanterns had gone out and the 

[ 41 ] 


Ah-Ling of Peldng 

remaining candlelight flickered in dismal 
sympathy. 

Jung Lu, as his noiseless footstep fell 
upon the thick rug, hesitated. Was that a 
stifled groan? Who could be here? It 
must be his harassed imagination. A 
shadow fell across the shrine. He started, 
and quickly turned to meet the frightened 
eyes of Cheng-Su. Neither spoke for a mo¬ 
ment. Jung Lu was sorely vexed to have 
his already disquieted being startled in this 
way. 

He held the old tutor in high esteem for 
his wisdom and devotion to Ah-Ling, but he 
must be reaching his dotage to spend the 
night in here. 

“What is the meaning of this?” he de¬ 
manded of Cheng-Su in stern tones. Cheng- 
Su was thoroughly frightened; he, too, had 
received a shock and was trembling with 
every breath. Jung Lu had never seen the 
placid old scholar in this state: no doubt 
there was some mischief afoot. 

Old Cheng-Su was too inexperienced in 

[ 42 ] 


Ah-Ling of Peking 

deception for successful concealment, and 
was torn between attempting to withhold 
his guilty knowledge or to confess every¬ 
thing. It might be that at this very moment 
Ah-Ling was in peril and was calling in 
vain for help. If he told all now, perhaps 
it would not be too late to save her. The 
lives of the foreigners were of no account 
when weighed against her life. 

“Answer me,” commanded Jung Lu 
threateningly. He was not going to stand 
here forever while Cheng-Su endeavored to 
gather his quaking wits. 

“Ah-Ling,” commenced Cheng-Su, and 
stopped. The sound of his voice and what 
he was about to say, took away his control of 
speech. 

Alarm leapt in Jung Lu. “Ah-Ling?” 
he queried with raised voice. 

“Oh, Excellency,” burst forth Cheng-Su, 
“terror fills my heart, for Ah-Ling has gone 
to warn the foreigners. Oh, save her! save 
her!” 

The old man’s entreaties turned into wails 

[ 43 ] 


Ah-Ling of Peking 

as his self-control gave way and he twisted 
his hands and writhed in apprehension. 

“Gone to warn the foreigners!” exclaimed 
the astounded and dismayed Jung Lu. 
“Incredible; impossible.” It took a mo¬ 
ment’s time to grasp the fact. 

“How dared thou let her go; how dared 
thou keep this secret?” ejaculated the more 
and more infuriated Jung Lu. 

“Answer me, or art thou turned dumb as 
well as traitor. Tell me all thy part in this 
treacherous affair.” 

Realizing it would now be fatal to conceal 
anything, Cheng-Su told of the visits to the 
Legation, the devotion of All-Ling and the 
English girl, and then of the unexpected 
flight to the foreigners. Jung Lu allowed 
the old man to tell everything without inter¬ 
ruption, while he listened, head bent for¬ 
ward, hands closing convulsively, the long 
nails digging into the flesh—anger steadily 
rising within him. 

The passionate fury of the Empress’ fa¬ 
vorite was renowned within the sacred walls 

[ 44 ] 


Ah-Ling of Peking 

—but never could it be described in its real¬ 
ity. The big form quivered and seemed to 
grow gigantic in stature; the slanting eyes 
were as burning coals; the mouth drawn 
down, nostrils distended, while the face be¬ 
came a sickly hue. Cheng-Su, terrorized at 
the spectacle, and cringing at the prospect 
of what might happen, waited—waited. 
Two long strides brought Jung Lu within 
arm’s reach. With both hands he seized 
Cheng-Su about the throat and threw him on 
his back, deliberately squeezing the breath 
out of the lungs, until the tongue lay still on 
the discolored face and the gasping and 
gurgling ceased. It had been done scarcely 
without a sound and in a few seconds’ time. 
Jung Lu did not even glance at the still 
form, as he silently disappeared behind the 
draperies. 


[ 45 ] 


1 


* 



PART FOUR 







“The moving finger writes , and having writ , 
Moves on: Nor all thy Piety nor wit 
Shall lure it back to cancel half a line 9 
Nor all thy tears wash out a word of it.” 


PART FOUR 


T O the native city of Peking it was 
only one of a million similar nights, 
hushed in peace and tranquillity. 
Not a murmur in the air whispered of the 
impending bombardment. Not an inkling 
came to the multitude of the ferment in the 
Legation or of the aroused fury in Court. 
Almost as day broke and the fresh wind of 
coming morning swept over the city, a 
mounted guard rode out of the Forbidden 
City and sped down the broad highway 
toward the Legation quarters. The Com¬ 
mander had orders to bring Ah-Ling, 
daughter of His Excellency Jung Lu, dead 
or alive to the Imperial City. The horses’ 
hoofs shook the ground, scattering thick 
mud in all directions. A little crumpled 
figure lay at the side of the road, and a rider 
pulled up his Mongolian pony barely in 

[ 49 ] 


Ah-Ling of Peking 

time to avoid trampling it under foot. In 
reigning in, he swerved to the side of the 
road and collided with another pony, and 
ponies and riders were all thrown to the 
ground. Amidst shouts and curses they dis¬ 
entangled themselves. 

Ah-Ling opened dazed eyes and tried to 
arise. One of the soldiers caught sight of 
her as he was about to mount, and called to 
his companion. They led their ponies over 
to the half-reclining huddled form. As the 
guardsmen approached, Ah-Ling cowered 
and hid her face in her arm. Where, oh 
where was she? The mind was groping in 
consciousness—the events of the past hours 
trying to force themselves into the memory. 

One of the soldiers spoke in a loud, excited 
voice—“Who art thou, maid, and why out 
here on the highway at break of day?” 

Receiving no reply he shook her by the 
arm, none too gently. Pain and anger 
awakened the confused mind with a swift 
realization of her plight. She must conceal 
her identity. Still keeping her face averted 

[ 50 ] 



Alt-Ling of Peking 

she replied in dull, faint voice—“I am a beg¬ 
gar maid. Let me rest.” They remained 
looking at her for a few moments, undecided, 
talking in an undertone, then, apparently 
satisfied with the answer, mounted the 
ponies and galloped off after the others, now 
far in the distance. 

Ah-Ling struggled to her feet. Were 
they seeking her? Had they discovered her 
absence? The Imperial Cavalry Guard was 
ordered out only under the Empress’ direct 
command; no one else held this power. The 
hope died within her that her escape was 
known only to her father. 

It was imperative to walk on in all haste, 
in spite of stiff and aching body. So deep 
was she in contemplation, that a galloping 
pony halted at the roadside before she was 
aware of its approach. The rider dis¬ 
mounted hastily and looked closely at Ah- 
Ling. It was the same horseman who had 
spoken to her before. With fear and appre¬ 
hension came a wild desire to hide, but the 
open road offered no place for concealment. 

[ 51 ] 



Ah-Ling of Peking 

Before the guardsman spoke, instinct told of 
coming danger. 

“In the name of Her Majesty,” he said, 
“I command thee to come to the Forbidden 
City Gate.” 

Alas, all pleadings were in vain. It was 
apparent the more she appealed, the more 
persistent became the guardsman in his in¬ 
tention to take her to the Forbidden City 
entrance. With threatening tones he helped 
her on to the pony’s back and mounted 
behind. 

Overcome with humility and fear, she 
could scarcely contain her grief. Arriving 
at the Great Gates, the guardsman gave a 
watchword and they passed through to the 
Imperial City Entrance. Here the trem¬ 
bling girl was lifted down while the soldier 
and sentries held heated discussion. The 
former, after much argument, persuaded the 
sentinels to send word to Po T’ung, chief 
secretary of His Excellency Jung Lu, to 
come and identify the maid. Reaching this 
conclusion, they turned their attention to 

[ 52 ] 


Ah-Ling of Peking 

Ah-Ling, leading her to a bench in the 
sentry house, where she droopingly sank, 
her frail body shivering in the early morn¬ 
ing air. 

The discussion had been in subdued tones. 
Only now and then when the soldier seemed 
to be failing in his argument did the voices 
rise and a word become distinguishable. 
Undoubtedly they were sending for some 
one to identify her. The situation held little 
hope, for there were few in the Imperial 
Court who did not know the only daughter 
of Jung Lu. And then what cruel or merci¬ 
ful fate awaited? 

All at once the crash of shooting rent the 
air, followed by waves of dense smoke rising 
from behind the distant walls. With heart 
in throat Ah-Ling saw the beginning of the 
devastating bombardment. Her tormented 
thoughts beat with longing to know if Diana 
were out of harm’s way. Alas, what de¬ 
liverance was there now for those remaining 
in Peking! 

Through the gateway from the Forbidden 

[ 53 ] 


Ah-Ling of Peking 

City came a chair swinging from the shoul¬ 
ders of four bearers. A similar, but vacant, 
chair followed. The first chair was lowered 
and from it alighted in all regalia Po T’ung, 
His Excellency Jung Lu’s first secretary. 
The guardsmen kotowed respectfully and 
led him to Ah-Ling. With bowed head she 
awaited the verdict of the official who had 
known her from early childhood, but who 
had never seen her without the disguise of 
paint and powder. In cold, disconcerted 
voice Po T’ung demanded if she were Ah- 
Ling, daughter of His Excellency Jung Lu. 
A reply was needless. Without hesitation 
he turned to the others and said without 
doubt, “It is she.” 

Bursting from her pent-up silence Ah- 
Ling imploringly besought compassion, 
begging to be conveyed secretly to the Court. 
Her supplications fell on merciless ears and 
were stilled as she was ordered to enter the 
empty chair. Po T’ung had also received 
Imperial commands, which were to be car¬ 
ried out without delay or deviation. 

[ 54 ] 


Ah-Ling of Peking 

The din of the aroused and inflamed native 
city grew in riotous uproar. Terror, anger, 
chagrin in turn reanimated Ah-Ling’s 
spirits, followed by utter despair at her very 
helplessness. 

When the first firing of the Boxers upon 
the Foreign Quarters reached the Empress 
Dowager’s ears, she summoned an audience 
to the Hall of Diligent Government for 
the purpose of taking counsel for future 
action. 

As the chair-bearers halted before the 
Great Hall, Ah-Ling furtively parted the 
curtains and looked out. With dread panic 
came the realization that she was to be taken 
at once before the Empress and the Council. 
With trembling knees she alighted from the 
chair and entered the magnificent court¬ 
room. Only on rare and infrequent occa¬ 
sions, when under grave sentence, were 
women allowed within its judicial walls. 
Fear mingled with awe in entering these 
revered portals. All her life she had passed 
the impressive building with solemn wonder, 

[ 55 ] 


Ah-Ling of Peking 

knowing that the momentous affairs of the 
Empire were determined there. 

Some learned magistrate was holding 
forth in a loud declamatory manner as the 
herald proclaimed the arrivals. The speaker 
abruptly ceased his utterances, while sup¬ 
pressed excitement stirred the assembly and 
all eyes turned toward the entrance. 

As Ah-Ling faced the curious, pitiless 
gaze of the throng, she was conscious of 
being detached — forsaken. Her heart 
seemed to have ceased beating. 

The Empress Dowager Tzu Hsi was en¬ 
throned in the distant end of the court. At 
her right, upon the dais, sat His Excellency 
Jung Lu. Ah-Ling, though distraught, in¬ 
stinctively kotowed with head to ground, and 
was summoned to approach the throne. 

With the slow and graceful swaying 
motion of the bamboo, she made her way the 
length of the majestic hall. Lifting her eyes 
within a few feet of the throne, she was 
startled to meet the glaring green eyes and 
gaping mouths of the huge gold dragons 

[ 56 ] 


Ah-Ling of Peking 

whose writhing backs supported the great 
dais. To Ah-Ling’s overwrought imagina¬ 
tion, their barbarous fangs and claws waited 
to close upon her as she sank once more to 
the ground in obeisance. 

The stillness which pervades the atmos¬ 
phere before a storm, diffused the hall— 
held the assemblage in breathless tension. 
The Empress Dowager arose from the 
throne in her fury. Resonant, wrathful 
tones issued from her throat. 

“No tongue of eloquence can speak be¬ 
fitting words to thee, O child of iniquity. 
Thou hast betrayed the kingdom of thy an¬ 
cestors and wickedly broken the holy laws of 
the Imperial City in endeavoring to aid the 
foreign villains. Speak, if thou canst pacify 
in any manner the fury of the Gods.” 

Ah-Ling had remained prostrate; now she 
arose. The words came falteringly, then 
grew stronger as she lost herself in the jus¬ 
tice of her plea. 

“Oh, illustrious Majesty,” she began, 
“the princes and officials of the Imperial 

[ 57 ] 


Ah-Ling of Peking 

City, consumed with jealousy and greed of 
power, conceive wicked plots against your 
Royal Majesty, blaming the foreigners for 
treacherous intrigues of which they are igno¬ 
rant. The foreigners desire only peace and 
friendship between the nations. Cannot 
China meet them halfway over the Bridge 
of Understanding? 

“Oh, most honorable Majesty, the spirit 
of our illustrious ancestors calls entreatingly 
for thee to stop this infamous act.” 

Ah-Ling sank on knees with forehead to 
ground in homage. 

The astonished assemblage had expected 
a terrified maid pleading for life: instead it 
was a supplication for mercy upon the white 
devils. With wonder and expectancy they 
watched the Empress. What judgment 
was being passed upon the maid as the 
August One gazed down upon her in silence ? 
Imagination could not divine the thoughts 
and emotions evolved in that extraordinarily 
brilliant, vacillating mind concealed behind 
the inscrutable expression. 

[ 58 ] 


Ah-Ling of Peking 

With fierce contempt and impatience came 
the hissing words—“I would that I knew 
what evil magic the sly foreigners practice 
to ensnare others into their wicked power.” 

Righteous indignation excited Ah-Ling. 
Words rushed to her lips. With effort she 
stilled them for a moment and bowed before 
rising. How could she attempt to express 
what the foreigners bestowed in their faith 
and good-will? 

“Oh, August Majesty,” she said, “it is 
neither magic nor sorcery, but a wondrous 
gift the foreigners would give. Sympathy, 
friendship and great knowledge; and above 
all, the teaching of the great Christian God. 
At first it is all difficult to understand— 
with words but dimly understood, but at last 
a new light enters life, fi]ling the soul with 
love, joy and hope unknown to the impris¬ 
oned hearts of China’s women.” 

Enkindled animosity and fury within the 
Empress Dowager broke their bounds. 
With difficulty she restrained her violent 
anger as the harsh phrases rang out, chilling 

[ 59 ] 


Ah-Ling of Peking 

even the unsympathetic and pitiless as¬ 
sembly. 

“Thou, the daughter of the Celestial Em¬ 
pire’s wisest counselor, hast betrayed her 
honorable country and forsaken the Gods— 
the God of Light, Great Buddha, shall not 
rise again in the heavens to gaze for another 
day upon a faithless Manchu who has cast 
off her deities. I command she be cast down 
the Ning Shou well at sundown.” 

With closed eyes and a stifled moan Ah- 
Ling fell forward. Well known was the 
finality of Old Buddha’s commands. 

Jung Lu, at the August One’s words, 
started from his seat, face drawn and gray. 
Such punishment could not be fated for Ah- 
Ling, his child, no matter what she had done, 
though her utterances were beyond belief to 
his ears. A shudder of horror passed over 
his body; he started to speak—fell on his 
knees in supplication before Old Buddha, 
who commanded silence and addressed him. 

“Let this be a warning to all undutiful 
subjects and above all to those evil ones who 

[ 60 ] 



Ah-Ling of Peking 

forsake their reverence for the Gods of 
China.” 

The Empress and attendants left the hall, 
a procession of magnificent splendor and 
gorgeous coloring. Tom-toms and cymbals 
clashed as the swaying palanquin bearing 
the August One passed out into the court¬ 
yard. 


[ 61 ] 








PART FIVE 


* 




“For speech is but broken light upon the depth 

of the unspoken 


PART FIVE 


J UNG LU was stunned by the truth 
that Ah-Ling had been converted 
from the Gods of her ancestors. An 
affront to the deities was beyond pardon. 
Human power could not stay the punish¬ 
ment the Gods would demand in revenge 
for being renounced. His soul cried out in 
despair, not knowing which way to turn for 
help. 

At length Ah-Ling arose and went before 
her father. With eyes subserviently cast 
down, with broken, sorrowful voice she 
spoke— 

“Oh, honorable father, try to forgive thy 
child.” The words choked in her throat and 
escaped through tremulous lips. “Indeed it 
was not my desire to disobey thee in unfilial 
manner, but there remained no other way. 
Alas, I am overcome with grief and deep re- 

[ 65 ] 



Ah-Ling of Peking 

gret for thee.” Her voice faltered with 
emotion, then a certain vehemency burst 
forth in tone and words. 

“Why, oh why, have the characters of 
justice, goodness and humanity, which the 
Gods are supposed to imprint upon the soul 
of China’s ruler, been effaced? To many 
others beside thy Ah-Ling is this calamity 
attended by misfortune.” 

From the distant end of the hall came 
loud, hoarse claims for right of entrance. 
These utterances carried through the court 
to the ears of Ah-Ling, who started and 
listened, senses tense. There was no mis¬ 
taking the familiar voice of old Cheng-Su. 
Her conscience smote her. Scarcely a fleet¬ 
ing thought in these crowded hours had she 
given to faithful Cheng-Su. 

Anxiously she gazed toward the entrance. 
Through the great doors, half supported, 
almost carried by two eunuchs, came old 
Cheng-Su, still muttering, but in less ani¬ 
mated tones. 

Jung Lu, aroused from his abject 

[ 66 ] 


Ali-Ling of Peking 

thoughts, lifted bowed head, while his glance 
fell upon the tottering form of the old man. 
With staring eyes and terrorized expression, 
his hands clutched at the arms of the chair 
for support—with a sickening feeling he 
wondered if it were the ghost of Cheng-Su 
come to taunt him. 

Cheng-Su with greatest difficulty con¬ 
trolled his trembling limbs. In one hand he 
convulsively held a scroll, while the fingers 
of the other clutched at his throat as though 
to ease the strain of speech. With gasps, 
he hoarsely cried, “Master! Master! I 
come to save Ah-Ling, not myself.” 

Jung Lu’s fright had departed with hear¬ 
ing the voice; intense relief came with the 
realization that it was Cheng-Su in earthly 
guise, and that he had left him unconscious, 
but not lifeless, as he had supposed. What 
deception and trickery was he playing now ? 

With flaring wrath Jung Lu demanded, 
“How dared thou come here, thou cursed 
fool? What is the scroll in thy hand?” He 
bent forward and seized the paper from the 

[ 67 ] 



Ali-Ling of Peking 

trembling hand. His glance scanned the 
parchment leaves impatiently, then his ex¬ 
pression became puzzled. Mystified, with 
scowling brow, he turned to Cheng-Su. 

“How earnest thou by this? and what 
treachery is it?” he questioned heatedly. 

“It is mine, Your Excellency,” replied 
Cheng-Su with eager, shaking voice. 
“Given me by my daughter these many 
years, treasured as my very eyes, and se¬ 
creted in my heart.” 

Jung Lu read the scroll several times, be¬ 
wildered: he was at a loss what to do. Fi¬ 
nally he turned to his equerry with a com¬ 
mand, and the officer left the court. 

No one spoke in the ensuing moments, 
each one deep in his own troubled reflections. 

Ah-Ling remained with eyes fixed upon 
Cheng-Su and Jung Lu in turn, as though 
she would read their inmost thoughts. Her 
own feelings were tossed between faint hope 
and fear at these new events. Pity seized 
her as she gazed upon poor old Cheng-Su: 
what had happened to him in the past hor- 

[ 68 ] 


Ah-Ling of Peking 

rible hours? He looked as though the very 
spirits of hell had played upon his being, 
leaving a wreck of a soul. 

The deafening clash of cymbals brought a 
surprised murmur to the few remaining in 
the courtroom, for it meant the return of 
the August One. This time only a small 
suite accompanied her. As Her Majesty 
reached the throne and all kotowed to the 
ground, Jung Lu went forward and with 
obeisance sought to give the Dowager Em¬ 
press the scroll. With a wave of the hand, 
she refused it, and ordered it to be read. 

The necessity of returning to the Court 
at Jung Lu’s request had not improved Old 
Buddha’s ill humor. The incident of the 
fate of Ah-Ling had been completely 
crowded from her memory in the great issue 
of the bombardment of the foreigners. To 
Her Majesty this scroll was doubtless some 
petition from the hated ones. 

In all haste, Jung Lu intervened with 
cautious words, U I beg to tell Your Noble 

[ 69 ] 


Ali-Ling of Peking 

Majesty that this scroll is for Your Honor¬ 
able Highness’ judgment alone.” 

If His Excellency’s unexpected words 
brought wonder to the Empress, it was not 
signified in the changeless expression. 

The entire assembly was dismissed, and 
there remained in the hall only Jung Lu, 
Cheng-Su, and Ah-Ling in the presence of 
the Empress Tzu Hsi. 

When the last person had passed out 
through the doors, and they were closed, 
Jung Lu turned to Cheng-Su and com¬ 
manded that he relate how the scroll came 
into his possession. 

Once more Cheng-Su kotowed and re¬ 
mained on bended knees, as he addressed the 
August One. 

“Your Majesty, when Her Excellency 
Aut-Teng, first wife of His Excellency 
Jung Lu, died, she gave this paper, sealed, 
to my beloved daughter, her lady-in-waiting. 
Soon after, my beloved daughter also passed 
into the Vale of Longevity, leaving the 
sealed scroll in my possession to guard as my 

[ 70 ] 


Ah-Ling of Peking 

life, and never to break the seal unless the 
life of His Excellency Jung Lu’s daughter, 
Ah-Ling, were in danger.” 

When the old man finished his long, halt¬ 
ing explanation, the Empress impatiently 
commanded Jung Lu to read the scroll. In 
clear, unhesitating voice he read, his whole 
being intent on fathoming this mysterious, 
serious affair. 

“About the sixth day of the Third Moon, 
in the year Ton Peng, came into life Peting 
Fo-Su-Ah-Ling, of unknown parentage. 
This infant soon after birth was given into 
my keeping secretly, by Her Majesty Tzu 
Hsi. I Aut-Teng, first wife of His Ex¬ 
cellency Jung Lu, had suffered when the 
Gods took for themselves my infant daugh¬ 
ter, and Her Majesty wished this young 
babe to take her place. Under penalty of 
death, by Old Buddha’s command, must I 
conceal the secret from Jung Lu and the 
world that the little Ah-Ling is not my flesh 
and blood. 

“In the great sorrowful loss of my own 

[ 71 ] 


Ali-Ling of Peking 

child, my heart wrapped itself about little 
Ah-Ling, and ever stronger grew the fear 
lest in the future she be claimed by her right¬ 
ful parents. I falsely advised the Empress 
Dowager Tzu Hsi of the infant Ah-Ling’s 
early death. Peting Fo-Su-Ah-Ling has 
the birthmark on the right arm, peculiar to 
the royal clan. As is well known through¬ 
out the Empire, a Manchu born with this 
birthmark, the Gods honor and protect. 
Evil will descend upon any mortal who 
would harm those the deities favor on this 
earth.” 

His voice ceased and the scroll fell to the 
floor. The injustice and wrong of the state- 
• ment roused to the point of defiance his hurt 
emotions. With a challenging tone he ad¬ 
dressed the Empress. 

“With my life I have served thee and the 
Imperial Kingdom. Now by my right, I 
demand to know the truth of what is con¬ 
tained in this scroll.” 

Her Majesty remained calm, so undis¬ 
turbed, in fact, it would seem she had not 

[ 72 ] 


Ah-Ling of Peking 

heard what had come to pass. Or could it 
be that the voice of the benumbed conscience 
was waking but not able to declare itself ? 

Old Buddha did not look at Jung Lu. 
but her eyes sought Ah-Ling, who stood 
close beside Cheng-Su. With hands con¬ 
cealing face the slight body swayed with 
silent, racking sobs. 

Strange to the ears of the others came the 
voice of the Empress, for it was low, even 
gentle in tone, with a ring of curiosity. 

“Cease thy lamenting, maid, and show the 
mark on thy arm, if thou art so favored by 
the Gods.” 

Silently Ah-Ling drew away her hands 
from her face and pushed back the cuff from 
the right hand. Just above the wrist was a 
small brown mark in the shape of a crescent 
moon. 

A startled cry issued from Jung Lu. 
The Empress drew back in alarm, but not a 
word came from the tightly compressed lips. 

Jung Lu now fell on his knees and cried, 
“Oh, Majesty, tell me I beseech thee, what 

[ 73 ] 


Ali-Ling of Peking 

this means. Who is this child, dear to my 
heart?” 

For the first time Old Buddha looked at 
Jung Lu. Her eyes faltered as she met his 
wide, pleading gaze, and then turned away 
as though they would search the distance of 
many years. No longer was she the bril¬ 
liant, domineering ruler, but a woman, tired, 
dejected; with the cords of human instinct 
tightening about her heart. Slowly she 
spoke. 

4 ‘Jung Lu, this is thy child. I swear by 
my right hand. I did not tell thy wife Aut- 
Teng, for I deemed it best that she should 
believe the infant of unknown parentage.” 

The Empress hesitated. Jung Lu, old 
Cheng-Su and Ah-Ling were hanging 
breathlessly on every word. Then with 
finality she ended, “More I cannot tell thee,” 
but she was looking now, only at Jung Lu. 
As their eyes met, did the years all at once 
pass away leaving the light of memory to 
explain, where words were forbidden? But 
this only the Empress and Jung Lu knew. 

[ 74 ] 


Ah-Ling of Peking 

At length Old Buddha, with effort, 
seemed to rouse herself from the brooding 
thoughts which engulfed her honorable per¬ 
son. Once more the familiar voice had the 
firm, resolute tones as she turned to Ah-Ling 
and spoke—“It is true that the Gods protect 
those whom they favor with the sign of the 
sacred crescent, and by the will of the Gods 
of thy glorious ancestors, thy life has been 
spared. But never again shalt thou have 
intercourse with the barbarians. Here, 
within the Forbidden City, as befits a proud 
Manchu, shalt thou remain in filial devotion. 
Never shall the foreign powers enter the sa¬ 
cred walls where Manchu rule reigns su¬ 
preme. And though thou hast forgotten 
this in thy foolish, wayward youth, let the 
sacred symbol on thy arm ever keep thee in 
remembrance to be faithful in thy reverence 
and obligation to the Celestial Empire.” 

On their knees, in amazement, the intent 
listeners drank in the Empress’ words, 
scarcely daring to breathe in fear lest the 
tide of fate change again. 

[ 75 ] 



Ah-Ling of Peking 

To Cheng-Su it was enough that Ah-Ling 
had been miraculously dragged back from 
the border of the great dark Beyond. What 
did it matter if his exhausted mind could 
not surmise the true reason for Ah-Ling’s 
redemption and, as many another secret of 
the Forbidden City, it would remain an un¬ 
solved mystery? 

Jung Lu was crying out in incoherent sen¬ 
tences his gratitude, intermingled with vows 
of burning ten million joss sticks before the 
family deity in honor of the All Highest 
ruler of the Imperial Kingdom. But the 
voice of Ah-Ling was silent. 

On bended knees, three times, with head 
to ground, she made obeisance. And, as 
ever in the life of a Manchu, whether win¬ 
ning life’s fullest rewards, or facing death, 
the lithe body was prostrate in outward hom¬ 
age to the Empress Dowager Tzu Hsi. 
But the heart and soul, far from the foot of 
the Royal Throne, were striving to pour out 
in utmost extent, their love and unbounded 
gratitude to the One and True Great God 

[ 76 ] 


Ali-Ling of Peking 

of the foreigners who had given her the 
strength to help them and now in mercy 
granted her life anew. 

The cymbals clashed; the drums beat; the 
great doors opened and the brilliant rays of 
sun poured in. As the Dowager Empress 
in the swaying palanquin was borne down 
the hall, once more her glance fell upon the 
kneeling Ah-Ling. And marvelously won¬ 
derful was the vision to her august eyes; for 
the God of light—Great Buddha—as in 
benediction, had enshrouded the dark head 
of the maid in a radiant light. 


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•i 

c 

c 

c, 


o i 





PART SIX 


t 


“And you are far , too far for me to see 
Your lanterns and your lattices apart 
So many moons—so many hundred li — 

Yet are you far—when you are in my heart?” 


4 


PART SIX 


M ANY moons had come and gone. 

The fearful clash between the na¬ 
tions had ended with the complete 
and ignominious defeat of China by the 
Foreign Forces. Peace had taken the place 
of turmoil, and the ancient city was strug¬ 
gling back to tranquillity. And now Ah- 
Ling, with thankful soul, sought to express 
in a letter her deepest hopes. The words 
poured forth in unfettered and exultant 
freedom: 

Diana,, dear one— 

Can it be that these many moons have 
not been years of anxious, weary, fear¬ 
ful waiting? Waiting and longing to 
hear news of thee, thy family and the 
fate of the Foreign Quarters? 

Days and days have dragged by while 

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Ali-Ling of Peking 

I have remained imprisoned here, help¬ 
less, within the Forbidden City, with 
the roar of the suffering Manchu city 
ever in my thoughts. 

When the first rumor came that the 
foreign forces had entered the Tartar 
walls, the Emperor, Dowager Empress 
and Court fled to the Summer Palace. 
Then came the frightful weeks of 
anxiety and foreboding, when it seemed 
not a foreigner could withstand the ter¬ 
rific siege and its hardships. At last 
the news arrived of China’s vanquish- 
ment and the rescue of the foreigners. 
Alas, there were many who were be¬ 
yond help! 

I cannot tell thee of my return to the 
city after I left thee, or what happened 
in the succeeding time. Under penalty 
of death, it is locked in my heart. It is 
perhaps better so—not to awaken 
thoughts of past torturing events. 

But now life is different, the maple 
trees in the palace gardens are ablaze 

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Ah-Ling of Peking 

and gay with brilliant color, but no less 
gay is the heart of Ah-Ling. 

By the time thou and thy honorable 
family are preparing for the feast of 
Christmas, I shall be with thee, also 
celebrating this beautiful time! 

When thy honorable father’s letter 
came through the British Peace Emis¬ 
sary, my august father and Her 
Majesty called me to audience. I truly 
believed my ears did not hear aright; 
what an amazing, changing world it is! 
The Emp ress Dowager, in the new 
Edict of Reform, denotes that national 
inefficiency means extinction; the base 
intrigues and artificial sins of the court 
must pass out. Her Majesty realizes 
that the forces of the Western world 
are not to be met and overthrown by 
the classics, and that China must follow 
the example of other countries in mod¬ 
ern methods of equipment and defense. 

The August One not only appreciates 
the vast superiority of the material 

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Ah-Ling of Peking 

forces of the Occident, but has been con¬ 
vinced of the value of the immense in¬ 
tellectual and political forces. 

Above everything the Empress 
wishes for an understanding and friend¬ 
ship between the nations, and only by 
knowing foreign teachings, customs and 
languages can this be accomplished. 

Then it was that thy humble friend 
was consulted if it would please her to 
go to England at the invitation of the • 
foreign British Minister and visit three 
or four years, and on returning become 
first lady-in-waiting to Her Majesty. 

This letter is being taken to thee by 
the British Peace Emissary, with the 
formal acceptance of the Empress 
Dowager and my august father. My 
heart is too full of gratitude for expres¬ 
sion. My eyes fill with tears of joyous 
longing to see thee and thy native land, 
while deep within me an incredulous 
voice seems to whisper—Can this be 
true; all this great happiness? 

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Ah-Ling of Peking 

Such preparation for the departure 
thou canst not imagine! It would cause 
thee boundless amusement. If I heeded 
the advice of all who in interest and 
kindness give it, thy Ah-Ling would 
need a fleet of ships to take her and her 
possessions to England. Her Majesty 
and my august father insisted on a re¬ 
tinue of retainers, two special cooks, 
four chair-bearers and four or five other 
attendants. 

At last I persuaded them to let me 
take only my old “Amah” and a young 
girl to assist her. Canst thou imagine 
the consternation of thy honorable 
mother, should I arrive with another 
household. Old Buddha and my 
august father shake their heads at these 
arrangements, and believe the foreign 
ways are truly strange. 

The thousands of li across the great 
ocean make the women and maids of the 
Court look at me in wonder that my 
teeth do not chatter with fright at the 

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Ali-Ling of Peking 

prospect of living on the waves for so 
long a time. Their thoughts are filled 
with desire to protect me, but, alas, it 
must be also true that kindness often 
kills. Such potions as have been made 
for me to drink, both when at sea or 
when afflicted with foreign ailments, 
beetle-wings pulverized; strange roots, 
and many more are the remedies. Then 
they believe the God of the Sea would 
always seize for his Court those he can 
reach from the God of the Earth, so 
tokens and talismans are pouring in. 
What a great influence superstition has 
in these lives! One gives me a sea-gull’s 
wing to wear about my neck on a chain; 
for the sea-gulls are messengers of the 
God of the Sea, and this attention 
would give me great protection. An¬ 
other presents me with a large live fish, 
which I must ever keep near by while 
on the ocean—also to please the God of 
the Sea. Innumerable are the charms 
so earnestly believed in. I must take 

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Ali-Ling of Peking 

them all with me and gradually scatter 
them by the way, for the thoughts of 
these well-wishing friends must be 
kindly dealt with. 

Once more, before I see thy dear face, 
I bow to the ground in gratitude and 
affection; and each day as the great 
boat sails over the sea, my heart will 
sing—one day nearer to thee and to my 
new home, where I shall strive for great 
knowledge and helpful thoughts to 
bring back to China. 

Oh, may the Imperial Kingdom in 
her new awakening grow in modern 
knowledge, never losing her priceless 
beauty and the wisdom of her illustrious 
ancestors! 

This is the deep desire which sings in 
the heart of thy 

Ah-Ling. 


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